


To Shed One's Skin

by little_abyss



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkwardness, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Multi, Pre-Poly, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this anonymous prompt received on tumblr: "I'd be interested to see Carver's first time with both Merrill and Bela, because I can't honestly decide how he would act."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Shed One's Skin

Merrill looks as nervous as he feels. “Merry,” he starts, “you know we don't…” 

“I know, I know,” she says and giggles, “but she'll be here soon and…” A pause as she looks at him, strangely exaltant, “And I still do want to. If you want to.”  She looks at him curiously, her eyes bright.  “You do still want to, don't you, Carver?”

“Yeah, he says, and tries a smile, although his palms are sweaty and his stomach is in knots. “Yeah, I do. If you do.”

 

It had begun like this; an overcast Sunday, Merrill wrapped around him. Their bed is warm, and if he could, he'd never leave it. He puts his nose against the top of her head, inhales the smell of tea rose and orange blossom and  _ her _ , just her smell. He smiles and she whispers, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he says, and she turns up her face to his, stretching to kiss his chin. “Rough,” he says and she smiles, shakes her head, “A little. I like it though.” 

He feels her hand moving on his body, down his chest ,over his stomach, and then he inhales as she in circles his cock with her hand. “Carver..?” A pause, and he hears the smile in her voice, “Do you want to?” 

He slides a hand over her waist, pulling her on top of him by way of answer. She laughs quietly as he moves his hands up her bare thighs, the old T-shirt she wears having ridden up over her hips.  She sits for a moment, still, astride him, and then smiles shyly, looking away.  Then she grasps the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it up in one smooth motion and there she is, bare for him, as beautiful as the first time. “Merry,” he says, and then has no more words.  She smiles.

  
  


After, when they lie together again, she props herself up on one elbow to look at him.  His heart is resuming something like its normal rhythm again and he blinks lazily at her.  “Carver,” she says, and he knows there is a question coming, just from the tone of her voice.  He frowns slightly and shifts his head to get a better look at her.  “What is it, honey?” he asks, and she looks at him quickly, then ducks her head, laying her cheek on his chest.  “Nothing,” she answers, and he laughs.

“Come on, Merry.  What’s up?”

“Oh, it’s silly.  Don’t worry.”

“Merry!” He laughs again, runs a hand up the smooth silk of the skin on her arm, “Come on!  You know you can’t say things like that!  That’s exactly when I do get worried!”

She laughs and draws a circle around his navel, and he chuckles.  “It’s dumb.  You’ll laugh.”

 

“Babe, you know I wouldn’t laugh at you.  Well,” he amends quickly, “Not on purpose.  Come on. Please.  Just… try me.” His stomach sinks slightly and he asks, “Wasn’t it… good?  For you?”

“Oh, Carver!”  Merrill giggles as she swats at him under the blankets.  “What do I have to do to convince you?  It’s good for me! I was… I guess…”  She rolls over and props her head on her hand, looks at him steadily and asks, “Do you… have… fantasies?”

 

“Yeah,” he says slowly, cautiously.  “Everyone does.  Right?”

“I suppose.  I was… just wondering…” she is speaking cautiously too, he notices, and he feels his throat suddenly dry.   _ Oh Maker _ , he prays silently _ , Please don’t break up with me.  Please don’t tell me you need time.  Please no _ .  Merrill takes a deep breath, and puts her hand on his chest, then says sombrely, “Do you ever think about having sex with someone else? Someone who’s… not me?”

 

He doesn’t know what to say.  Sure, he’s thought about it.  Apart from Merrill, there’s only ever been two other girls.  And there was that guy in college, but that was just a one time blow job, so that hardly counts.  Plus, he reasons, they were drunk, so it doubly doesn’t count.  And just because he sometimes wanks off to the remembered feeling of that cock in his mouth, that doesn’t mean anything.  He swallows, opens his mouth to speak, and then Merrill rushes in.  “I’m not trying to pressure you!  I just… I was just wondering, and I saw something on the internet the other day that made me think of it, and I was wondering if maybe, like, maybe one day you would maybe want to have a threesome or something?  And then I could watch you getting off with another girl, and I think I’d quite like that, y’know?  Only if it wasn’t weird for you though, I mean obviously, if it was weird we wouldn’t do it, but I’d really like to see you having sex with someone else, because it feels so nice, and it’d be nice if it was someone we knew, like, maybe not very well, because that would be weird, if we saw them a lot, but…”  She seems to run out of breath and looks at him, flushed, expectant.  “Carver?  What do you think?”  She stares at him as he tries to get his thoughts in order, then whispers, “Oh Creators.  I’ve broken you, haven’t I?  I’m sorry!  I didn’t…”

 

“Shhh, Merry.  Gimme a second,” he says, rather more gruffly than he’d meant to.  He feels her tense, and then she whispers, “Oh, Carver, I’m…”

“Merry, just… hang on?  Please?”  There, that was a bit more normal.  So, Merrill and someone else.  His mind explodes with images, and he takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.  “So,” he begins, but it comes out a little squeaky, so he clears his throat and tries again, “So… theoretically, who would this person be?”

 

“Well,” Merrill says, and she puts her chin back on her hand, more relaxed.  “We could… um… pay?  For a nice lady?”

Carver scrunches his nose, “Yeah, I guess.  I’m… not in love with that idea.  Is there anyone, y’know, that we could ask?  And... I mean, what do you even like?  In the lady department, I mean?”

Merrill giggles, “Boobs!  And a good laugh.  Bigger than me, a bit… a bit bossy?”  She giggles again, “What about you?  I mean… for a fantasy girl?”

“Hey, I like boobs too,” he smiles at her, and gives her breast a light squeeze.  She yelps and giggles, then runs tickling fingers over his ribs.  “Okay, okay!” he laughs, and then quiets, thinking.  “Okay.  Fantasy girl.  Someone who’s pretty confident?  Can… kind of…”  He wrinkles his nose and says it, all in a rush, because it’s just what he’s thinking, “Kind of tell me what to do?  What they like and don’t?  I don’t know, Merrill.  Are we actually gonna do this?”

“Oh yes, Carver,” she tells him, and smiles.  “You just leave it with me.  I think I might know  _ exactly _ the right person.”

 

And here they are.  It turns out that Merrill did indeed know exactly the right person, though when they’d spoken to Isabela about it she was less than keen at first.  “Really?  Are you sure?” she’d asked them, and Merrill, sitting across the room from her, cross legged on the floor, had nodded vigourously.  Isabela had laughed.  “I should rephrase that, maybe.  Are you  _ both _ sure?”  She had looked at Carver, who had blushed, but nodded firmly.  “Hmm,” Isabela had said, “I don’t know if you are.  I mean, three in a bed is all very fun, but it can sometimes be hard to go back after that.  Please, don’t get me wrong,” she had put up a hand, and smiled slightly, “I’m not saying no, or not just yet anyway.  But I am saying that you really need to think about this, hard, and what the implications might be for your future.  You’re nice kids, both of you.  But I’m not going to stand in the middle while you two hurt each other, if this is where this is coming from.”

 

“It’s not, Izzy, I promise,” Merrill had begun, and Isabela had smiled at her.  

“Alright kitten.  And what will you do if Carver decides he wants more than just the one time?  What will you do if he decides he likes fucking me better?”

“That wouldn’t…” Carver had flared, but Isabela had held up her hand to him and nodded to Merrill, who had looked confused and worried.  “You see?” Isabela had continued, “You need to talk about this stuff.  Sort it out, and then… well.  If you decide you want to go ahead, then that’s great.  Just let me know when.  If you decide against it, then we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened.”  She takes a sip of her tea and grins at Merrill, “You know what would really improve this tea?  Rum.”

 

And now, she’ll be here in five minutes.  If she’s not late.  She wouldn’t be late, would she?   _ What am I thinking, _ he asks himself,  _ Isabela’s always late _ .  He picks up an ornament, a little handcarved halla, and puts it down again.   _ Shit, shit, shit _ , he thinks, and wonders if he should put more deoderant on.  Then, the intercom buzzes, and Merrill leaps up and across the room, yelping into it, “Come on up!”  She looks at Carver, takes a big breath in and smiles at him, and then frowns.  “Carver?  Honey?  You look sick.”

 

“I’m okay,” he tells her brusquely.  Oh Maker, why,  _ why _ did he say yes to this?  Should he have worn different underwear?  Gone to the gym more?  Oh Maker, what if… what if he’s too small, what if she laughs at him, what if she doesn’t come?  What if he comes too fast?  His heart pounds, and Merrill opens the door, revealing Isabela standing there, hair loose around her shoulders.  She grins at Merrill, embraces her, and looks at Carver quizzically.  “Cheer up, sweets.  You’re going to have fun, you know.”

 

“I know,” he says, feigning a casual attitude.  Isabela’s eyebrow rises slightly, and the corner of her mouth turns up.  “Okay,” she says slowly, and shrugs out of her coat.  She’s dressed simply, blue jeans and a light button down shirt.  She approaches the sofa, puts the coat on the back of it, and looks back to where Merrill stands, twiddling nervously by the door.  Isabela sighs.  “Come on, lovebirds.  Come and sit with me for a minute.”

 

They do, one on either side of Isabela.  She takes both their hands, holds them clasped in her own lightly on her lap.  “Now, listen to me for a bit.  When we talked about this first, I told you to talk to each other about what would happen afterward.  Did you do that?”

“Yes, we did,” Merrill says quietly, and Isabela nods.

“Good,” she says, “Did you talk about what you want during?  Like,” that strange twist of her lips again, as if she is trying not to smile, “It’s always a good idea to set some boundaries, so no-one’s getting surprised with a finger some place they don’t want it, for instance.  And this hardly bears asking, but we’re going to all be sensible and protected, right?”

 

“Right,” Carver says, and then clears his throat.  “Right,” he tries again.  “Uh, yup, got… protection, and um.  No fingers for me please.”

Isabela chuckles.  “You… might have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

Carver takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  This is awful, but he suspects that it will go a lot easier if he doesn’t have to look at either Merrill or Isabela.  “Right.  Nothing up the arse, but… uh, I’ll eat pussy, and um… fuck, I don’t know.  I’ve never eaten ass before, but I…”

“One step at a time, eh, sweets?” Isabela says, and her tone is calm, friendly.  He opens his eyes, and Merrill beams at him proudly.  

“Oh, Carver,” she grins, then looks at Isabela, “Didn’t I tell you he was adorable?  Um…” she giggles, then says, “Okay, I’m alright with butt stuff, and all the other stuff Carver said, uh, giving and receiving…” she giggles again, “But I really just want to watch Carver have sex with you.  And… um, I want to kiss you?  A lot?  Is… is that okay?”

 

Isabela smiles; and honestly, it’s beautiful.  “Kitten, that sounds lovely,” she says, and squeezes Merrill’s hand.  Isabela turns slightly, looking from Merrill to Carver and asks, her voice low, almost a purr, “Shall we go then?”  Carver takes a deep breath, looking at her, and feels a completely different emotion unfurling low in his stomach; the first flutterings of desire.  The arch of Isabela’s neck, all that wonderful hair, the sweet swell of her breasts, her hips and stomach, her thighs, the surety of her hand in his.  He feels the desire sweep under his skin, over the ends of his nerves, feels an anticipatory wash of saliva as he wonders what her skin tastes like. He swallows and Merrill rises, pulling Isabela and himself up, off the sofa, and he laughs at her eagerness.  “Come on,” Merrill laughs with him, pulling them both forward, toward the bedroom.

 

Isabela chuckles when she sees the fuss which Merrill’s gone to.  “Is this how you two usually do it?” she asks, beginning to unbutton her shirt.  “All these candles?”

Carver shakes his head, toying with the hem of his t-shirt while Merrill pulls the curtains.  “Nah,” he says, and is surprised at the sound of his voice - he sounds calm, relaxed, much more than he thought he would.  He smiles, “Merrill just wanted to make it special, y’know?”

“Aww, kitten,” Isabela says, “You’re so… thoughtful.”  She pauses, removes her shirt to show the white lace bra under it.  Her voice is pitched lower when she resumes, “Can I help you with that?”

“No, I’m… oh,” Merrill says, already down to her bra and panties;  _ that happened fast _ , Carver thinks, and there is something in Merrill’s eagerness which twists in his guts, becomes both sweet and sharp at the same time.  Isabela approaches Merrill from behind, slides her hands over the narrow shoulders, and bends her head slightly toward the juncture of Merrill’s shoulder and neck.  She looks at Carver over Merrill's naked shoulder and he sees her eyes are dark, vibrant.  “May I?” she enquires.

 

Merrill nods, a small smile playing over her lips.  Carver can see the thump of pulse quicken in Merrill’s throat, in the moment before Isabela touches her lips to Merrill’s skin.  Her eyes are almost closed, and she pulls her head away from Isabela’s mouth, giving her freer access to her neck.  Carver feels hypnotised by the sight of it, these, Maker, these beautiful women, they’re… shit, Isabela’s taking off Merrill’s bra, cupping the soft, pale flesh, sliding a thumb over the taut pink nipple, and suddenly he’s tearing at his clothes, mouth dry, unable to move his eyes away. 

 

Isabela’s eyes flick to him quickly as she raises her head from Merrill’s shoulder.  “Kitten, will you kiss me?” she asks, her voice so smooth, so low, there is that twist in Carver again.  He feels strangely spare, extraneous to the events unfolding before his eyes.  Merrill turns, raising her arms as she does, looping them over Isabela’s shoulders and pressing their bodies together as if it is the most natural thing in the world.  Carver’s cock throbs and twitches, growing harder as he watches the two women, and the thrill zings up his spine and along his fingers when Isabela looks at him again from the side of her eye and beckons him over to where they stand.  

 

Carver goes to them, a few paces, though it seems like miles.  He stands awkwardly, just behind Merrill, watching still, unsure of what to do, whether or not he should say anything.  Isabela takes her hands from Merrill’s hips, reaching toward Carver.  Without thinking, he puts his hands in hers, and she guides him forward, until he is standing flush against Merrill’s back.  He can feel his cock respond to the closeness of her body, the warmth of it, and his breath catches in his chest as he listens to the sound of their mouths one upon the other, the occasional clack of teeth.  Isabela moves his hands again, around to the front of Merrill’s body, one up to her breasts, the other down to her panties.  And Maker, she is so  _ wet _ already, he can feel it soaked through the thin cotton, feels her grind her hips forward and moan as Isabela steps away to peel off her jeans.  “You two,” she smiles at them, “You’re so beautiful together.”

 

Carver chuckles nervously, bends his head toward Merrill’s shoulder.  He kisses her neck, nuzzling into it, trying to lose himself in the feel of her flesh under his hands, in the way she is riding his hand, the feel of her buttocks against his cock.  He closes his eyes, and it might just be them there, together, nobody else in the room.  Merrill puts a hand behind herself with one hand, grasping his arse and he smiles as she pushes his hips forward, using the leverage to grind into him harder.  “Babe,” he murmurs, and then tenses when he feels Isabela’s hand on his hip. 

“Relax,” she tells him, and he breathes out, kisses Merrill again, pushes the damp fabric of her underwear aside to rub the tip of one finger lightly over her clit.  She moans, arches her hips forward and backward again, then pants, “Carver, oh, honey, you…” she takes a quick breath, then asks, all in a single rushing exhale, “Please please can you do that thing I like to Izzy, I wanna, oh… oh, Carver, please.”  

 

He sighs, and smiles a little, feeling rather absurdly proud.  Slowly, he relinquishes his hands from Merrill’s body, and she turns, pushing her face up to his, kissing him rather roughly.  Then she grins at him excitedly and looks around his shoulder to Isabela, who chuckles.  “Alright,” she says, “I’ll bite.  What is this  _ thing that you like _ , kitten?”

“Carver,” Merrill says, and he hears a distinct note of pride in her voice, “has a very talented mouth.”

“Ooh,” Isabela says, and strokes Carver’s arm as he rolls his eyes at Merrill, makes a weak noise of protest, “I’m intrigued.  Carver?” she asks, and takes his elbow, turning him toward her, “Carver.”  She pauses, looking at him seriously, and then tells him softly, “Honey, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.  I mean it.”  

 

She looks at him rather fiercely, and he stares back, into the depths of her eyes in the amber glow.  Finally, Isabela speaks again.  “We’re gonna start off real slow, okay?  And at any time, you want out, you don’t need to give anybody a reason.  You just say  _ I’m done _ and everything’ll stop.  Okay?  Use your words, big boy.”

He nods, and then quietly says, “Okay.”

“Good.”  She smiles at him, and again, he is struck by her loveliness.  Slowly, he puts a hand to her hair, feels the silken weight of it, and her smile widens as he strokes it.  His heart rate climbs, and he asks, “Isabela…?”

“Yes, Carver?”

He swallows.  “Will you… will you get on the bed?  Please?”

“Certainly,” she smiles at him, and he’s glad to see that all that arch mockery has vanished from her tone.  Merrill follows, and Carver notes that she is holding Isabela’s hand as they climb onto the bed.  Carver is hard, eager but nervous too - he feels almost as if it is his first time all over again.  He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and says gruffly, “Is it okay if I take your underwear off?”

 

“I’ll do it,” Isabela says, though not unkindly.  She goes to her knees, pulling the white lace over her hips and down.  Carver swallows, and Merrill beams.  “Izzy,” she says, and her tone is almost worshipful, “You have the nicest bum.”

Isabela turns, smiling at her.  “Thank you, kitten.  I bet it’s not half as nice as yours.”

Merrill giggles, and glances at Carver.  Softly, she puts a hand on Isabela’s arm, pulling her back down so that they are face to face.  Carver frowns a little, looking at Isabela.  She’s… so beautiful, and to think he’d never really noticed before.  The sweet roundness of her hips, the golden brown hue of her flesh, she looks warm, inviting; there is nothing that seems sharp about her, nothing at all.  It’s almost as if he’s seeing her with new eyes.  Just working on instinct now, watching as if from far away as Merrill strokes the tops of Isabela’s breasts as they kiss, he bends down over Isabela’s lap.  Slowly, he puts his hands on her hips, kisses the soft swell of her flesh, inhales the smell of her; salt, sweet, a smell like nothing he’s encountered before.  Faster now, more eager, he kisses his way lower, feels her thighs open a little wider, hears from above something murmured.  He pays it no mind.

 

Isabela shifts again, wriggling under him, and he moves with it, not wanting to break the spell he’s under.  Maker, this is beautiful,  _ she _ is beautiful, and he kisses lower, along the rough curls between her legs, using the tips of his fingers to hold the lips of her cunt apart. He holds for a moment, blowing gently on the exposed skin, bright with slick.  Isabela writhes, moving her hips up and down, and he hears her chuckle, looks up slightly to see Merrill kissing her way over the top of Isabela’s breast, toward one dark nipple.  They look at each other for a moment, and Merrill smiles before Carver closes his eyes, concentrating.  It’s not tentative, the movement of his mouth -  _ very talented _ , Merrill had called it, and he hears his older brother laugh in the back of his mind and say drunkenly  _ the Hawke mouth’s gotta be good for something else as well as getting in trouble, right Carv? _ \- it’s sure, but slow.  Slowly, he laps up from the opening of her to her clit; slowly, he circles it with his tongue, then kisses it, pulling it into his mouth very slightly and then releasing.  He feels Isabela’s hand in his hair, nuzzles the top of his nose against her pelvic bone, inhaling the smell of her.  He laps and circles, kisses and sucks, watching, listening to how her body responds - slowly, slowly, and then, a little faster.  Isabela’s hand tightens on his hair, and he pushes his tongue deeper into her, still holding her apart, pinching a little; teasing.  She pushes her hips forward, once, twice, and then pulls his hair so hard he stops for a second, listening to her breathless moan.  “Carver,” she says, once she has recovered slightly, “Maker’s Balls, you  _ are _ good at that.”

 

Merrill giggles.  “Told you!” she chirps happily, then sits up, curling herself down to rest her head on Isabela’s thigh.  Carver looks at her and raises an eyebrow, then asks, “Do you mind? I’m a bit busy here.”

Merrill grins at him.  “I can see that, ma vhenan.”  Her eyes are luminous in the low light, and he sees her lips are bitten-pink and puffed with kisses.  He is overtaken in a moment, and moves quickly, forgetting he has another woman’s taste in his mouth, forgetting everything except for the look in Merrill’s eyes.  Over Isabela’s leg, he moves up on his elbows, leans over and cups Merrill’s jaw, kissing her soundly.  Their tongues meet, and it feels, oh it feels so good, so right, even with the sound of Isabela’s laughter in his ears, even with the feel of her slick on his chin.  In fact it feels as if a puzzle piece he didn’t know was missing has finally dropped into place.  Complete.  Right.  His heart swells momentarily, and then he pulls away.  “Babe,” he says, and his voice is rough, “Thank you.”

 

Merrill smiles softly, looking confusedly at him.  “For what?” she asks, and then Isabela is struggling up, grinning down at them both.  “Lovebirds,” she says softly, caressing them both - Carvers’ throat, just under his jaw, and stroking Merrill’s hair.  Carver pushes himself slowly up, looking at Merrill as he does; she smiles and follows suit, rising much faster.  As such, she pushes forward in a way that Carver was not anticipating, and they knock their heads together.  Carver grunts, and Merrill yelps, then they look at each other in surprise.  “Oh, lovebirds,” Isabela laughs, and they look at her as she puts one hand to her chest, breasts jiggling prettily as she chuckles.  Carver frowns slightly, then grins, putting a hand to his forehead.  “You okay?” he asks Merrill, who nods and smiles, shaking her head.  She winks at him, then lunges forward, tackling Isabela backwards.  Isabela shrieks happily, and Merrill kisses her, the sound of their laughter mingling.  

 

Carver watches the two of them for a second, rising to his knees.  If it wasn’t for their various states of undress thinks it could be… all rather innocent.  Gentle, he supposes.  Rather sweet.  Which is exactly what had attracted him to Merrill in the first place - sweet and gentle, but all that steel underneath, all that unwavering strength.  In Isabela, there is something of the same, some similarity which calls to him.  He smiles, and Isabela holds her hand out to him.  When Merrill relinquishes her mouth, Isabela turns her face to Carver and asks, “How are you?”

 

His smile widens.  “Fine,” he says, and adjusts himself through his boxers.  Isabela smirks, “Really?  Because you’re looking…” she sighs, and makes a moué, “rather too  _ clothed _ for my liking.  Could we do something about that?”

He smiles at her wryly and puts his thumb into the elasticated waist of the underwear, pulling it out and down slightly, then running his thumb along the inside of it from one hip to the other.  “Got a please for me?”

“And here he is!  Carver Hawke, as I live and breathe, I never knew you had such a mouth on you.  And what a mouth it is,” she grins outright at him and stretches her hand out to graze just the tips of her fingers along his length.  His nostrils flare, and she blinks lazily at him, then opens her mouth to purr, “Please, Carver.  Take off your underwear.”  She cannot resist a smirk as her eyelids go heavy and he feels his cock twitch as she almost moans, “Slowly.”

 

His breathing is short, and he licks his bottom lip.  “‘Kay,” he mutters, and slides both thumbs past the waistband of his shorts.  Slowly, looking somewhere in the region of Isabela’s navel, unable to meet her gaze or even think about Merrill, he pulls the boxers slowly past the wings of his hips, down, down, pulling them out and over his stiff cock.  It bobs slightly, finally free of the constraint, and he chances a look at the two women.  Merrill is beaming at his dick delightedly, almost as if she is mesmerised, but Isabela has her eyes on his face.  “Beautiful,” she tells him, “Carver, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

 

He smiles at her, unsure of what he should say.  In the end, he settles for a nod.  Isabela holds out her arms to him, and he begins to go to her, and then says, “Hang on a sec.”

He looks at Merrill.  Fuck, he is so fucking hard, it’s difficult to think straight, to not just let eagerness take over. But there is a strong thread of pragmatism to him, and so he asks gruffly, “Can you get me..?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Merrill says, and springs out from under Isabela’s arm.  Isabela smiles and says, her eyebrow raised, “Well done, in the face of temptation and everything,” as Merrill hands him a condom from the top drawer.  He rips open the foil, trying not to see how much his hands are shaking, and rolls it on.  Then he takes a deep breath and says, “Okay.  Lets do it.”

 

“Carver,” Isabela purrs, and he braces himself for snark, but that’s it.  Just his name.  She holds her arms out to him again, and he blinks - there  _ is _ desire in her gaze, it’s not just a game to her, he sees it.  And it means so much to him in that moment, that someone as strong and willfully, stubbornly independent as Isabela could want him, could want both of them, could want a sample of what they have, he and Merrill… well.  His heart leaps in his chest, and he leans over her, balancing on his arms, letting his shoulders take the weight of him.  He can feel his cock brush against her body, even from inside the condom, and he shudders with delight, kissing her neck, her shoulders, feeling Merrill right there, feeling the tendon of Isabela’s neck go taut as she cranes her neck to the side to kiss Merrill, feels her hand move away from his body to Merrill, feels the connection between them all.  With the other hand, Isabela reaches down to him, taking hold of his cock and he groans against her skin, she shifts her body, opening herself wider, her legs, her skin against his, raw feeling, desperate, Maker, if he keeps this up he won’t last long so he tries to distance himself from the sensation, of  _ her, _ her hand on him, her hand on his woman, the way he can feel her muscles hitch, the little mewling noises of pleasure that Merrill makes as she fucks herself on Isabela’s hand, the beautiful flush which creeps over Merrill’s cheeks, the way that Isabela’s skin is aflame with bright fire from the candles reflecting from the sheen of sweat which arcs over her collarbone, and oh, Maker, oh, he’s in her, and it feels like home this, feels right, feels good,  _ good _ .

 

So good he’s lost, for what seems an age.  He loses himself in them, these two women, bright and soft and strong.  The smell, the heat, the way he is not superfluous, the way they are all here, together, in this moment.  He hears as if from a distance when Merrill cries out, pleasure without words, the sound caught half in Isabela’s mouth as she seems pants with every thrust from Carver.  He sees and does not see as Isabela’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of Merrill’s arm, as her eyes screw shut and mouth opens soundlessly as she comes, her body clenching around him.  And Maker, it is good, it is good, the way his whole body feels it as he comes, not long after her, weighed down by his pleasure, subsumed in it, buried in light.  In that moment, nothing exists at all.

 

He returns to himself on an inhale of breath.  Merrill and Isabela are both looking at him; Merrill with tears in her eyes, smiling as if she will burst with happiness, and Isabela with a strange look of sadness about her.  “Hey,” Carver croaks, “Hello.”

Merrill laughs, loudly, and Carver and Isabela both grin.  “Darlings,” Isabela says softly, and clears her throat, “Well.  That was fun.”

The difference in her tone between the first, soft word and the second is marked.  The first sounds aching, lonely - the second like she is drawing a line, reminding them that this is not forever.   _ But… Couldn’t it be _ ? Carver wonders, and almost laughs himself at the impossibility of it.  Surely she wouldn’t want that.  

 

Merrill kisses Isabela’s cheek softly and then squirms off the side of the bed.  “Izzy?” she asks softly, and raises her eyebrows, “You go first, okay?  That way you’ll have plenty of hot water.  Take as long as you want. I…” she stops short, looks as if she changes her mind about something, and her smile widens, becomes false.  “...I’ve put a new towel out for you, it’s on the bench, okay?”

“Alright,” Isabela says slowly, and wriggles, trying to get out from under Carver.  He takes hold of his cock, almost soft now, and bites the side of his tongue, wondering why he feels so… so stupid, so lost.   _ This is dumb _ , he tells himself angrily,  _ You can’t fuck someone once and feel like this.  And anyway, you’ve got Merrill. Don’t be daft _ .  Isabela slides off the bed and walks to the door, bending to pick up her discarded clothes along the way.  She pauses in the doorway and looks back at them; Merrill, standing awkwardly by the bureau, Carver, sitting on his haunches on the bed, still with one hand on himself.  For a long moment, they look at each other, and then Isabela turns, making her way to the bathroom.


End file.
